


When Chaos Reigned

by God_of_Death



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ancient England/Londinium, Ancient Rome, Gen, Other, Slavery, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 16:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Death/pseuds/God_of_Death
Summary: Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Names and descriptions are purely coincidental. No harm intended, no money exchanged. Entertainment only. Emperor Hadrian is an actual character and ruler in history at the turn of the second century. Jonathon and the other cast belong to me.Summary: Prequel to "Run East."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OriginalCeenote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/gifts), [SisterWine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterWine/gifts).



> WARNING: THIS FICTION DEALS WITH SLAVERY! If you feel offended while reading, please do not carry on and feel free to read something else. You cannot change the past, only learn from it. You have been warned!!

AD 122 Londinium, England

Jonathon made his way down the small dirt path, just over a rounded hill and up to the city gate with a small pouch of gold coins in his hands. After a long twelve years to save up enough gold to free his siblings and himself from servitude, he felt confident that today was the day they could stop to enjoy their lives anew. Spending only what he needed to for supplies and necessities, he bartered to make up for what he spent. A brand new tunic cost him a shiny five gold pieces and sandals, only one. Long, blond hair swayed and clapped at his back, flowing free from his normal red band and drying on such a hot day. He spent the morning washing and combing his long hair and adding oils to it, making it more desirable for his audience that he had lost track of time and now hurried into town.

Centurions stood at the tall, wooden gate to the city and stopped everyone coming into town. An embarrassing long line had formed and Jonathon had to step out to see what held up the once easy flow. The merchant in front of him was a hefty round man with three oxen to sell and the man in front of him had his two sons shoving a massive cart, loaded with a mountain of golden wheat for the baker. He sighed and stepped back into place, glancing at the midday sky for every five minutes that slipped past. The line had grown considerably behind him and more centurions were dispatched to walk along the outer sides and grant those with just themselves, passage into the city. 

A tall, muscular Roman stalked up to him and asked to see his wares. Cold, brown eyes and battle-hardened expressions gave off an impression of fierce penalties if folk got out of line. Gold covered cork armour and newly sharpened sword and polished shield helped to emphasize his authority. "What have you? Speak, boy!" The man's gruff voice and thick Italian accent gave Jonathon a quick shudder.

"I have nothing, my lord. I have but these gold coins to purchase some wares, for my master." Holding his hand out for the man to inspect the pouch, Jonathon trembled and prayed for safe passage into the city. His eyes widened as the guard stepped forward to grab the small cloth pouch and peer inside. Slow moments ticked by before he was finally waved out of line and pointed to a smaller gate where one solitary guard stood. Nodding, he hurried along the path to smaller gate and was stopped by the centurion holding only a sharpened spear.

The smaller gate resembled much of a tall door and the man in front of it seemed as Goliath once did, to David. "What is your business, boy?" Beady eyes stared at him from under the metal helmet.

Jonathon swallowed and tried to control the shaking in his hands as he held up the pouch, again. "I have business in the marketplace, for my master." He froze as the guard reached out to grab a handful of long golden hair and stare at it before looking Jonathon over.

"What business?" Releasing the hair and cupping Jonathon's chin, turning his head this way and that, his beady eyes narrowed at the prettiness of the young man of nineteen.

Taking a breath, Jonathon kept his eyes forward as the guard circled him, noting the clean tunic and new sandals. "I have purchases for my master before the sun sets."

Stepping forward and placing his nose close to Jonathon's ear, he whispered, "and who is your master, boy?"

"Lord Thenayan." His head turned shortly and back again as the guard took a sharp intake of breath and stepped back upon hearing the name. He watched as the guard moved towards the door and opened it for him to pass. Once he was inside and the door slammed shut behind him, he gave a long, deep sigh before continuing. "One good thing about my master's name and rank..."

A young girl of thirteen called to him from the clearing of the market and replaced the cloth she looked at to the table before running to her elder brother. Brown curls bounced with delight against her aqua dress as she made her way between customers and vendors alike, to embrace him. "Jonathon!" She was shorter than him by only six inches but threw herself at him with considerable force that caused him to stumble backward. "Where have you been, Jonathon? Mother and I have been looking all over the city for you." Guinevere stared up at her brother and smiled, glad to finally see him again after such a long absence.

Jonathon smiled and bent to kiss his sister's cheek. "Forgive me, Gwen. I have been extra busy as of late." A pang of sudden pain as he straightened, reminded him of his hardships as the revered lord's houseboy. "Where are Marcus and Jason?" Scanning the crowd of the marketplace, searching for his twin younger brothers, Jonathon spotted his mother coming towards them. "Mother!" His smile returned as they embraced, groaning slightly as her hand brushed a soreness on his back.

The elderly Nora Casius stood just under Jonathon's height, as he was the tallest of her children and rest her head on his shoulder as he held her. At forty, she had endured much of a servant's life after Jonathon's father was struck down in battle. Golden hair and a beautiful face and body, she quickly became the favourite of Lord Casius, who purchased her from his dear friend's estate after news of his demise returned from battle. "My son!" Gentle hands cupped his face as she brought their faces together for a kiss and another embrace, stroking his hair. "Your hair, this length! Your master approves?" She pulled back and held a lock in her hands, feeling the soft texture of it.

Shaking his head, Jonathon reached up to hold her hands in his. "After this day, he won't have to mind anymore." He looked from his mother back to the gathering crowd as the evening shops opened and displayed their wares. "Where are Marcus and Jason? Have you seen them?"

"Yes. They are waiting for us near the centre." Nora grabbed his arm and prevented from brushing past them to find his younger brothers. "Jonathon, tell me. What have you, in your head?"

A smile warmed his face once again. "Enough, mother. I have finally saved enough to purchase our freedoms. All of us. We are free to go North, as you have wanted. I have enough gold to buy my brothers and Gwen from their masters and you and I from selling my hair. Mother, we can be free." His voice sounded of joy as he answered her. His eyes lit up as his met with hers. The smile and happiness faded as she shook her head and gave him a frightened look. "What's the matter? Is it not what you wanted, mother?"

Nora smiled and kissed his lips. "Yes, of course. I want all my children to be happy. Go. You and your brothers and sister be free, my son. Use the coins you have left over for your meals and beds. Start new lives and be in love with whom you choose." Though close in age to her master's, she had fallen in love with the man and he, in turn had promised to make her his bride. The move was forbidden by law yet, seeing as how Casius had treated her and her daughter, the sadness of the loss of her husband quickly diminished.

"No. Mother, I have enough gold for them. You and I can purchase our freedoms from my hair. The barber has agreed to purchase it to give to the minstrel. Please, mother, come with us." Jonathon begged her and embraced her again, terrified of being separated from his ailing mother, again.

Nora slipped her hand in his and began walking towards the centre. "I have found my home. I cannot bear to lose anymore of my children. Jonathon, take your brothers and sister far away from here and never look back. You were just a boy when your father was dispatched in battle. I will not see the same happen to you. My lord is a good man. He cares for his children and mine too. I am too old to travel so, you three will do it for me. I have lived my whole life in Londinium." She stopped and turned him to face her. "I will die, here. But, you, my son, you will leave this crippling place and be free to fill your heart and soul with a love of your choosing, not whom Thenayan wishes you with. Go. Take your sister and see to them. See to me, after."

"Yes, mother." A kiss goodbye and a heartbroken look back as he was pulled in the direction of the fountain, where his two brothers sat and waited. A brave smile as he greeted them and walked with them to their master's farm, handing over four gold pieces for each of them and receiving the deeds to their freedoms. His next task was to purchase his sister from Lord Casius, a shrewd but fair man that lived on the outskirts of the city.

Casius had asked for six gold for his sister, which left Jonathon with only three gold pieces. For a man of Casius's stature, he suffered no man's loss of wealth to further his own. An older man who thought himself the next emperor and one of Hadrian's best generals, often looked upon Jonathon as a wasted reminder of his close friend, Talicus and had no qualms of selling him off to the highest bidder, sadistic Lord Thenayan.

Handing over the six gold pieces without delay, Jonathon waited patiently for her deed. As he accepted the scroll, his eye caught sight of his mother, sitting on pillows and reading to the mistress's toddler child. "Mother." A small nod as she blew them a kiss and a sad smile. The door shut promptly in his face as, still being a servant, he was not permitted to enter another lord's home unless expressly told.

"Jonathon. Hadrian comes." Marcus, the younger of the twins, stood several feet away from them and faced the city square. Shoulder-length ginger hair and blue eyes had granted him grace from their master as being an anomaly. "Lord Thenayan will never let you go on gold, alone. Perhaps, Emperor Hadrian will grant you freedom?" For as young as he and his brother were, they had seen Thenayan's temper spike more than once in their older brother's direction and had been appalled at the aftermaths. 

Turning to watch the long train of royal carriages make their way to the amphitheatre, Jonathon weighed his brother's suggestion. Shaking his head and calling them close, he gave them new instructions. "No, Master will not accept anything less than gold and my word of Emperor." He turned to the oldest twin and placed his arm around the sixteen year old. "Jason, take your brother and sister to port and wait for me there. I have a stop to make and then to see Master. No arguments." Handing over one gold piece, he added, "get something to eat for all three of you. I will see to my own meal." With a shove to their backs, he sent them on their way, watching them disappear into the crowd that had formed to see the Emperor.

.............

Palace Steps

With no luck finding the barber at his station and remembering what Marcus had said, Jonathon thought to try his luck with the royal approval. Early evening began to fall and Jonathon stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting for a glimpse of the Emperor. With a shove from behind, Jonathon was pushed into the guard that stood in front of him. Colour drained from his face and his eyes widened as the well-muscled palace guard turned and grabbed him by the arm, his free hand raised to strike Jonathon across the face.

"Centurion! Bring the boy to me." Hadrian's thunderous voice silenced the noisy crowd as he raised a hand and waved the guard and Jonathon closer to him. Dressed in purple robes and golden leaves and jewelry, his majesty sat tall and proud in his open carriage. "What is your name, boy?" The Emperor commanded as Jonathon stood a few feet from the carriage.

Bowing low and trying not to shake, he answered. "Jonathon Talicus, Emperor." He remained bent until requested to straighten.

Hadrian stared at him with cold eyes. "Talicus?" The name sounded vaguely familiar to him. "The name is not familiar to me." Eyeing the young man's skin, he noted the mark of servant on Jonathon's upper left arm. "Your master is Talicus?"

"No, Emperor. My father was General Talicus, slain in battle, years ago. My master is Lord Thenayan." Jonathon felt all eyes on him as he spoke. Staring at the bottom of the carriage, he expected to be punished for disrupting the royal procession but instead was granted private audience with the Emperor, in his chambers. He followed behind the caravan and was searched and relieved of his possessions before being shoved into the polished white marble room. He watched as the same centurion that he had bumped into presented the three scrolls as well as his remaining gold pieces to Hadrian, who now sat on a marbled throne, eating peeled grapes. Jonathon's stomach growled with hunger as he stood there.

Hadrian paid Jonathon no attention as he dined, greedily. Eating his fill and yawning of boredom, he noted the scrawny young man standing alone, in the middle of his chambers. "Why did you strike my centurion? Speak!"

Dropping to all fours and staring at the floor, Jonathon begged forgiveness. "Forgive me, my Emperor. I am terribly clumsy. Master gives me such distress over my clumsiness. One more punishment and I am to be sold. I humbly apologize, my Emperor." There was a deafening silence as he remained on the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard heavy footsteps approach him and pause as the same centurion grabbed his arms and lifted him to his feet. 

"Undress and turn around." Hadrian's voice seemed little interested in the young man's emotions.

Trembling fingers moved to slip his arms out of his tunic and let it fall to his waist before he turned around, sweeping his long hair over his left shoulder, and waited for next instruction. He knew beatings from his own master were kept private and away from public, unless incidents occurred in public. Jonathon had seen public whippings for petty crimes and was terrified to hear of his own for disrupting the Emperor's caravan. His bottom lip trembled as he waited but he dared not turn around without permission.

Hadrian sat forward and examined the young man's back. "You say your master is Lord Thenayan, do you?"

"Yes, Emperor."

There was another pause and a soft shuffling of parchment. "Centurion, summon Thenayan to me at once. Inform him of his slave's presence." Hadrian stared at the long locks that flowed over the pale and thin shoulder. "Your master approves of your hair this length?"

Jonathon closed his eyes and mentally said goodbyes to his young siblings. He knew he would not survive this punishment. He heard the heavy footsteps leave him and head for the door he now faced. Taking a ragged breath, he shivered at the coldness of the large room. "No, my Emperor. I have grown it to sell to the barber, to purchase myself and my mother. Mother wishes not to accept."

"Turn. Your clumsiness has caused great punishment upon you. However, I do not think those marks are reminders of that. Are they, boy?" Hadrian waited. "Answer."

"No, my Emperor." Jonathon turned around and locked his knees as his trembles became visible.

Glancing over the three scrolls in his lap, Hadrian read the names of the masters and then the names of the slaves. "These scrolls. Why does a slave keep them?"

Jonathon took a breath and stared at the parchments in Hadrian's hands. "They are my younger brothers, Marcus and Jason, and my sister, Guinevere, my Emperor. I have saved for twelve years to purchase our freedoms and move north. I knew Master would not release me from service without extra gold pieces. I had hoped to request permission from my Emperor, before obligating Master. I have only two gold pieces left." He trembled more as he heard the trumpets sound, noting the arrival of his master.

Hadrian gave a deep sigh as he listened to Jonathon's answer. "I could have you publicly whipped for striking a centurion. Thus, I know of Thenayan's temper, myself." Stroking his beard, he eyed the scrawny young man, before him. "You say you are Talicus' boy? Yet, these names of slaves say Casius." He paused as another centurion stepped forward to announce Thenayan's arrival. Telling the guard to have the requested lord wait in the outer chamber, he directed his attention back to Jonathon.

"My mother, Nora Casius, was bought by Lord Casius, after my father was dispatched in war. Lord Casius sold me to Master and my brothers to a centurion, at the edge of the city. My sister, Gwen, remained by my mother's side until this day." Jonathon kept his eyes lowered as not to offend the Emperor, glancing up every few seconds. His breath caught as Hadrian raised a hand to wave in Thenayan. Swallowing and feeling his body quake with terror as the short-tempered man stormed into the room and marched past him to bow to his Emperor, Jonathon could do nothing but stand there and await his punishment.

Reaching for a crystal glass filled with red wine, Hadrian stared calmly at his decorated general, who arrived in his medal-adorned red toga and long, flowing cape. "This slave is your property, is it not, Thenayan?" He sipped and replaced the glass to the small table beside him before reaching for another peeled grape.

Casting a menacing sneer over his right shoulder, Thenayan growled under his breath at Jonathon. "It is, sire."

Hadrian sighed, bored with the evening. "He came to me to seek his emancipation from your service, General. In the process, his clumsiness has struck a centurion. Tell me, how many lashings do you give for this carelessness?" Taking another bite of a grape, he raised interest as Jonathon's lower lip trembled.

Thenayan, an arrogant general who won his battles with thorough tactics and merciless consequences for his prisoners, stood before the Emperor as if being sworn in to Senate. A proud, older man with dark hair, graying on the sides, and a well-trimmed beard that curled at the ends took each dealing with soldier or servant with fierce rule. "His clumsiness has earned him strict punishment of six lashings for each carelessness he has brought to my house, my lord."

"Six, you say? What constitutes such strict punishment?" Hadrian leaned in, interested in the odd number of lashings for such a tolerable offense.

Thenayan controlled his anger and promptly answered. "The boy is intolerable. Constantly upsets my household and kitchen with his constant trembling. His tasks are simple yet, he sees fit to execute them with such noise that my guests have no rest or peace around him." The general threw out his chest, his medals catching the glimmer of the candles and sparkled. He was not a man to accept being told he was wrong and would certainly not hear it from a simple servant.

Nodding in agreement with the general and studying Jonathon's shocked expression, Hadrian shifted in his plush seat. "The boy disagrees?" Waving Jonathon closer and watching with narrowed eyes as the shirtless young man stepped forward and knelt down at the bottom of the three steps that led up to where Hadrian sat. "What tasks have you that cause such discipline?"

Jonathon raised his head and turned to look back at Thenayan before turning to address the Emperor. "I am the room servant, my Emperor. I bring food and wine to guests and see to their comforts. I am paid very little attention by Master or anyone else unless Master makes it a purpose to find me. Often, he will find me, in the middle of the night and carry on as if still in battle with an unseen opponent. Each day is a new terror." He hushed as Hadrian's hand rose to silence him.

"The boy lies! He is treated no more harsh than my own men!" Thenayan growled audibly. "I shall see to his thorough punishment."

"I hold in my possession, two gold pieces and the plea of the boy to be free from you. IF you say he is indeed insufferable, will you not grant him freedom, at this price?" Hadrian had come to be widely known as a fair Emperor and prohibited unjust punishments against slaves, at the hands of their masters. Yet, he often decided not to step in and free another man's possession. His eyes moved from Jonathon's pale and scarred back to the boy's upturned and terrified face and then to Thenayan's red and angered face.

Thenayan snarled at the request. "I will see the boy stripped of his skin before I release him! Such insolence!" Anger swept the man's sense of reason and he removed the whip he carried on his right side and raised a hand to bring down on Jonathon's back, freezing in his movements by Hadrian's fierce order to halt. Dropping his hand and then dropping to one knee, Thenayan lowered his head and begged for the Emperor's forgiveness. 

Hadrian now stood at the edge of the step down, his temper fuming. "You will control your actions while in my presence, General." Waving away the two centurions who stepped forward with their hands ready on their hilts, Hadrian turned to step back to his chair and sit down. After a long moment of silence and another drink of wine, he spoke with a calm tone. "I will not force you to free this young man from your service, if you so choose not to let him go. However, after recent events, General, I would ponder your options carefully. Your temper has a most volatile hair to it and I can see the boy speaks the truth. I have heard similar complaints of your treatment of servants and have come to the understanding of why he trembles so. How much is the boy's salary?"

Snarling down at the creamy white back, Thenayan answered to his best recollection. "I give him a schilling a week for his incompetence, my lord."

Hadrian nodded. "A schilling a week." Picking up the discarded scrolls from the small table beside him and staring at the payments, he once again stared down at Jonathon, still on his knees. "He informs me of his relentless saving of payments over the course of twelve years and has earned himself enough gold coin for such an occasion. He has paid six gold to Casius, for his sister and four gold to Centurion Caesar, for his two brothers. Will you accept his payment of two remaining gold and be free of him, General? Or do you insist on his punishment for petty squabbles?"

Thenayan grumbled and grunted under his breath at taking such a small payment. "I will accept payment." 

"Fine then." Snapping his fingers and calling over his secretary, Hadrian had the man draw up a new contract in which Hadrian personally signed as witness to Thenayan signing over Jonathon's freedom. A disturbance from outside the window caught his attention and as Jonathon finished signing the document, Hadrian rose from his chair once again to make his way to the window, behind him and look out. "Centurion. That glow, what comes from it?" By now the sun had set and the fire in the distance burned brightly in the night sky. Panic from below cause such a noise that Hadrian's hands flew to his ears.

The centurion by the door stepped forward and answered in a deep bass tone. "Fire has broke out near the basilica, my liege."

"Gather the company. Put it out. Settle the people." Hadrian turned back to the general and waved his closer. "You are needed, general. Boy, you are free to go." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Jonathon to leave the palace.

 

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

Roanoke Colony, 1590

Ears rang and his stomach waffled this way and that causing Jonathon to stumble down the gangplank and duck into a roll at the bottom. He landed on a large tuft of sand and tall grass and sat there for a long moment before falling backward and sprawling himself to stare up at the stars. The night was unseasonably warm and clear for May, leaving the bright moon to light up the beach like a summer afternoon. With arms and legs outstretched and his head feeling as though he was still below decks, on the choppy waters, he gathered his strength to roll onto his right side and stare at the long line of trees that lay not fifty feet from him. Jonathon blinked and let his eyes adjust to such a sudden movement. "Whoa! I believe next time, I shall walk." He pushed himself to sit up and shake his head, driving away the dizziness. "So this is the new colony?" Quieting and listening to the sound of far off voices, mixed in with lazy sleepers and the soft brushing of wind through the trees, his eyes narrowed as he searched the darkness for signs of colonists.

The last man off the ship that had no idea he had been aboard, already seemed doomed. He crept behind him and watched as the man stood in the crow's nest and stared out at the ocean. Striking quickly and taking the man's clothes before dumping him over the side, Jonathon took the time to revel in his somewhat cleaner attire. It hadn't been easy keeping himself hidden through various repairs and short comings with the sea and then to snack on Englishman and Spaniard alike, all without ever being suspected. A noise in the far distance between the trees caught his attention. Pushing himself to his feet, Jonathon turned to stare up at the massive wooden ship on the beach and stiffened in terror. "No, not again." After successfully keeping out of sight on an extended voyage, he was unwilling to hide there again.

"You there! Officer?" A young soft female voice called to him from a few feet away. Big green eyes and rosy lips that smiled up at him, belonged to a pretty young woman of seventeen. She stood a hair under him in height, with bare feet and delicious honey brown hair that fell just below her midsection. Stopping a few feet away and pulling her white, knit shawl around her, she stood there in her night dress and waited for his reply.

Jonathon's eyes opened wide as he knew he was caught but hadn't turned around to see who spoke to him.

"Art thou an officer or not?" Her voice was slightly higher than normal tone and sounded from the southeastern part of England.

Dropping his head to look down at what clothing he had on, Jonathon spun around and flashed a quick, nervous smile at her. "Yes, my lady. I am... an officer." He swallowed. "How might I assist thee?" During the passage from Ocracoke Inlet to the Outer Banks, he became overburdened with hunger and taken it upon himself to squeeze his form out of the tiny space behind the well-stacked crates and barrels of supplies, placed in the overstuffed galley and make his way up on deck where he happened upon a dozing lookout. Drinking his fill and slipping into the fresh clothes before dumping the naked body overboard in such a way that it barely made a splash as it limply hit the water, Jonathon smiled to himself and enjoyed the fresh night air. Learning to braid his long hair, he cleverly concealed the braid under his shirt, using the coat as extra concealment.

"I am Rachel Duffet, daughter of Edwin Duffet and fiancee of Major Andrew Loughton, who is missing and feared dead." Her smiled faded into brief sadness as she looked away from him and down to the white sand that glistened in the moonlight. Her father, Edwin, was a prestigious banker of the crown and secured passage for he and his daughter to travel to the new world on business. While Edwin sailed to gain procurement of traveler's investments in the new land, Rachel came along to enjoy time with him and also rejoin her fiance, whom sailed on another ship. She was the only daughter of Edwin and oldest of Edwin and Patricia Duffet's three children.

Jonathon stepped forward and raised her milky white chin with a finger, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "Fret not, my lady. I am certain he will... turn up... sooner of later." He smiled, gaining a smile from her rosy lips as a tinge of pink kissed at her cheekbones. His own skin paled in comparison to hers and held a coolness against the warm night that gave her a shiver.

"I am unable to sleep, for some unknown reason, and thought you might escort me on a walk along the beach." Rachel batted her long eyelashes at him, feeling a warmth emit from him. Taking his arm and walking to his right, they turned and made their way along the beach. "Will you be staying on the island or returning to England?" She asked after a moment of silence and listening to the breeze whisper at their ears. Her nightgown wisped and ruffled at her ankles as her steps moved so elegantly alongside him. Casual glances from the corner of her eye eased her from the late hour on the new island. She and her family had spent only a few months in the small village and the warnings of her father had become tiresome; nonsense talk of rabid savages lurking in the darkness of trees and under heavy brush, waiting to strike down the pretty things of the newcomers. She turned to look at his slender profile and found herself blushing at his handsome features.

Turning his head from the black waves of the ocean to look at her, Jonathon hadn't even thought of the answer. "I should like to stay and explore this new land. Though, I will miss my home, I am certain there is a freshness to this new land. I shall be content to taste it." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as their eyes met. 

Rachel smiled. "I do not remember seeing you on the ship. Were you ill?" Eyeing his features and trying to think of a possible meeting, she found herself void of his attendance on the ship they now left behind them.

"Ill? No. Not unless you would hold the most unsettling of swaying waves and moving planks against me? It seemed the floor did not wish to hold still. No. I'm afraid I was below, keeping watch over the galley. Then, up in the crow's nest, during much of the voyage." Jonathon eyed her casually. He recalled the motion of the floorboards on the ship and how they never seemed to still for him to walk. He had supposed that it was the rats' wills that moved the floor and allowed them to escape, tossing him one way and them the other in frantic attempt to flee his hunger. A hand raised to the top of his head and absently touched the spot where it had met with a supporting beam, after chasing a fat gray rat around the galley only to have it escape between two heavy boxes of provisions.

Rachel pulled her shawl tighter around her as a breeze from the ocean picked up. She shivered and gasped at the cold but calmed as he removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders. "Forgive me, whom am I walking with?" She stopped and turned her gaze to him. The moonlight caught the sparkle in her eyes, accenting her soft, young beauty as she smiled. 

Jonathon found himself caught up in the fresh moment of cool night air and a lovely young woman at his side to notice her question. "Hm? Nobody. I mean..." He stopped and turned to face her. "Jonathon Talicus, Miss." He bowed formally and waited for her approving giggle before straightening again.

"Talicus? I've never heard that name. Were you born English?" Rachel questioned. She studied him more closely as he spoke. Listening for another accent. Her eyes moved from his blond hair to deep blue eyes and then to his thin pale lips that captivated her with his smile.

A careful smile as the closeness of her warm body caused a hunger within him that crept slowly to the surface. "Yes. A very long time ago. My father was from Rome. He landed on the shores of south England and fell in love with my mother." With each inhale of her salty sweet scent, Jonathon's ears hollowed to her words, drowning out everything else to hear the melodious rapture of her heartbeat. He was hungry and could feel a strong gust pushing him closer to her. With only soft syllables left of her words to tether him, he was shaken from his trance by her hand on his arm.

Concern fresh on her face as Rachel leaned closer to him, causing him to step back. "Are you well, sir?" Instinctively, she reached a hand up to touch his cheek but stopped as his gaze seemed far away and she wasn't sure if touching him would bring comfort or something else.

Jonathon shook himself free of her heartbeat and its ever-present pull. "Yes- yes, I am just wary, Miss Duffet. Come, I shall escort thee home. Such generous new land also comes full of dangerous and ferocious beasts and murderous savages." A brave smile as he took her arm once more and turned to lead her back to the small encampment that had spent only a few days putting up shelter and constructing tall barrier walls around the fort. Her soft laughter was music to his ears as she had found his tell of wild beasts and new land savages exciting. Jonathon smiled and enjoyed her closeness and the feel of her arm linked to his as they walked up to the gates. For a brief instant his mind sent him back to standing before the great wooden gates of Londinium and the two British soldiers on either side resembled those of sturdy Centurions guarding the city. Stepping up to the first guard that stood under a brightly burning large torch, he cleared his throat and announced to the man, capturing the guard's attention, "Ship guard escorting the lady Duffet to her quarters." His words had mesmerized the man and he smiled as they were free to enter.

"I've had a lovely walk, Officer Talicus." Rachel flirted as they slowly strolled through the empty village, making their way to her father's tent.

Smiling as they came to stop in front of the large, canvas tent she shared with her father, he bowed in acceptance of her compliment. "Jonathon, please. Now, I bid you rest. Dawn approaches and the day is long and tiresome." The firelight of the massive torches to light the village reflected in her deep emerald eyes and Jonathon couldn't help but find himself ensnared by the young woman's beauty.

Staring up into his eyes and feeling the same pull as he felt to her, she blinked and nervously tucked a lock of golden brown hair behind her right ear. "Then I must insist you address me as Rachel, kind sir. I thank you for the walk and the fine conversation, Jonathon. Might I see you tomorrow, evening? Another stroll along the beach as the sun sets?"

Jonathon watched the movement of her lips and studied each word she spoke. "Sunset? I regret I cannot desert my post so soon. I shall look forward to an evening stroll, though. Now, to bed with you." A feeling of dread hit him as she gave one last smile and ducked inside the tent. A moment of stillness before he moved to turn away but stopped as the tentflap lifted again, revealing her flawless face as she reached out for his cheek and gave him a quick kiss in appreciation. A hand slipped to his left cheek as he touched the spot where her warm lips had brushed. He stood there, letting the warm sensation fill his body before the hunger took over. A faint brushing in the wood, behind the fort wall, caught his attention and he made his way towards the sound in eagerness of the hunt.

Over the next four months, their friendship blossomed and he found himself wrestling with affections he had never known before. He became content with sharing details of himself with her and she him until the early morning came when she had questioned him far too much about his nightly visits and nothing in the daylight hours. One such night had caught him off guard as she surprised him by walking up to greet him with a picnic basket full of fruits, vegetables, breads and cheese. "What is this?"

Rachel held up the basket and smiled. Her soft brown hair curled and twisted and hung loose down her back as the sides were pulled back and braided as they met. "I know you guard for long hours and very few chances for a meal so, I took it upon myself to bring to you a basket and company. If you accept?" An emerald dress with ruffles layering the skirt and a tight bodice with off the shoulder sleeves, exposing her creamy white neck. Her thin bone structure and pale skin gave him several exhilarating glimpses to those delicious blue veins coursing with intense red heat that flowed like lava once given the chance.

"Yes. Of course, I would be delighted to have you for supper... That is, to... Forgive me. It's been a dreadful watch." Looking around the small inlet of beach, surrounded by the lush green plantlife of the forest. Choosing a large flat rock, underneath the wide canopy of thick, green leaves. "Come here." Taking her hand in his, Jonathon lead her over to the rock to sit down and waited as she unpacked the basket. He studied every fruit and vegetable she brought out. He glanced up every now and then, watching her as she moved and sliced the vegetables and bread. Jonathon looked over the assortment and scooped up a large, round red object and stared at it with mixed curiosity. "What is this? A red bubble?"

Rachel giggled and looked up from finishing her chore as he stared at the juicy red tomato in his hand. Her laughter rose as she watched his questioning of the fruit. "Jonathon, that's a tomato. Haven't you ever seen one before?" Her amusement piqued as his mouth twisted into uncertainty. 

With a nervous laugh and a curious sniff to the object in his hand, Jonathon swallowed. "I suppose it's been a long while since I had." Gently squeezing the soft fruit while turning it in his hand as he tried to imagine the taste of such an odd creation. Though his memory extended back to his early years, he hadn't recalled ever coming across an interesting fruit.

"Try one. They are the juiciest of tastes and such a difference from stale ship food." Rachel stopped what she was doing and watched him as he examined the tomato closely as if making sure it were real or safe to eat. "It won't bite you, Johnny. I grew it myself. The soil is so rich here and so untainted; so fresh. They taste delicious and sweet." She eagerly awaited as he took a bite.

Unsure of what to do once he had the piece of food in his mouth, Jonathon swished and tasted and flattened and milled it around in his mouth. Finally swallowing the dissected bite and debating on the texture and taste, he looked down at the tomato in his hand, acutely studying the area around the missing bite. He noted the thin skin and jellied middle as well as the thick dermis, porous and pink instead of the rich crimson of the outer and inner layers. "Delicious, yes." Placing the tomato on the rock in front of him, he looked over the rest of the assortment and again his curiosity consumed him. Jonathon picked up a gray, flat and spongy disk and sniffed at it. It smelled familiar yet strange.

Rachel busied herself with taking up the knife and starting to slice the small cucumbers and bread for the sandwiches. When she looked up again, she found his curiosity over the meal preparings quite humourous. "It is a wild mushroom. They are strange but not harmful. I found them growing by the most beautiful of springs. They are very relaxing and taste just as delicious as the tomatoes." Rachel giggled more, a softer and sweeter pleasant roll of light-hearted thunder. "You have the innocence of a child, Jonathon. I so love that about you."

Breaking the cap of the mushroom in half and handing the bigger half to her, Jonathon watched as she brought a corner to her mouth and held her gaze as they bit into their pieces at the same time. The foreign food in his mouth tasted musty and strange. He swallowed and began to feel as though the earth slowed with every eye blink he stole. An odd sensation spread over him as a wave of euphoria seized his senses. A sigh of transition as wave upon wave of dissociative nausea pulled at his senses from all directions. Jonathon focused on the blur that became the woman before him. Her heartbeat magnified a thousandfold in his ears. 

Captivating moans seeped out of her as she chewed on the piece in her mouth. "Are they not wonderful, Johnny? They taste of heaven. Do they not? I want to taste the clouds." Eyes closed and head tilt back, Rachel looked content as she chewed. "Oh, I do love thee, Jonathon!"

"Yes, well I would much rather taste..." Jonathon's words were silenced with her lips on his as she leaned over, wrapping her arms around him and kissed him, "tomato." Falling back and landing on a cool pillow of fresh, green leaves, he finished his sentence as Rachel pulled away and reclaimed herself. "Are you feeling alright?"

Fanning herself and feeling faint, Rachel sighed. She waited for the intense heat and flush feelings to pass before ever attempting to look at him, remembering what spontaneous action she had made. A lady did not do such things. A lady did not even entertain the idea of courting such a lowly ship guard. "Forgive me. I do not know what's come over me. Perhaps, we shall not try those, again." Composing herself again and taking a breath, she stole a glance over at him and found him sitting very still, with a hand at his lips. Her cheeks reddened as the full realisation washed over her. "Jonathon, you must find me disgraceful. I am terribly sorry. Please forgive me." Rachel threw a hand over her mouth and pushed herself to her feet and took two steps before he caught her arm. "Please let me go. I have made a mockery of myself with such foolishness."

Jonathon was in front of her before she had time to pull away from him. "Please, my lady. I find nothing disgraceful about it. Perhaps, it is best that we not try those mustyplumes, again. Since we are sharing so much of ourselves, I think it best to share with you something of myself." Jonathon listened to her heart beat ever so slightly faster as he began to speak.

Shaking her head, Rachel looked around for any eavesdroppers. "Jonathon, it was a err of judgment."

"... after so few months of being here, with you....."

"I was not myself when I said that I loved you." 

Jonathon closed his eyes and took a breath as he said his feelings. "I believe I am falling in love with you." Upon hearing her admission, he opened his eyes and froze. "What?"

"What?" Rachel stepped back. Her heart pound in her chest as she caught his words that choked him for the last few weeks. She was so busy denying her own actions and backpedaling that she hadn't noticed him even begin to speak. Over the past few months she fell in love with the mysterious young man but told herself that her fiance was still alive and wanting to marry her. At least, that was something her father would tell her to think. She didn't believe Major Andrew was still alive and how could he be? Jonathon was the perfect distraction to take her mind off of the loneliness and sorrow. 

Quickly recoiling and searching for a fast recovery of her denial, Jonathon averted his attention and thought as he stared over at the forgotten food, on the flat rock. "I'm falling in love with... the tomato." He turned back to see her confusion play across her face.

Rachel's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Jonathon bowed his head and looked away from her. "Love." It was only a whisper under his breath but she had heard that word and his heart sank as she laughed. "I must confess something to you, dear Rachel."

"No, you don't." She laughed. "Jonathon, this is all very wonderful and I think you are so amusing and good-hearted but, I love Andrew. He will come back for me. I know it." Feigning hope and a smile, she prayed that he was only joking and would laugh it away, but he didn't. "You cannot tell me this, Jonathon. You cannot give me anything. Andrew can give me love and a marriage under my father's blessing. You are but a common guard." Rachel choked on the words, witnessing what their meaning spelled out for their friendship.

"I can give you so much more, Rachel. I could give you an extraordinary life; one you could not begin to imagine. I have been alone for far too long and very unhappy. You -dear Rachel- you have made me happy. I have seen you happy, as well. We could be together, for a very long time. I've spent a thousand years searching for someone like you. I've found you." Jonathon's happiness came to an end as he revealed her suspicions of demonic activities as truth and watched in horror as Rachel backed away in fright. His smile widened to include his two needle sharp incisors. 

"Monster. You are a monster. You courted me all this while and revel in turning my sights down such a dark path for your own fiendish glee? Monster!" The more Rachel's voice raised, the more she backed away from him, praying that someone overheard and rushed to her aid.

Jonathon shook his head and tried to quell her fears but with each step forward, she took a step back. "No. I am not a monster. Rachel, please."

The terror in Rachel's eyes spread and invaded her pulse, letting her heart pound out of control. "Monster! MONSTER!" Impulsively, she turned and ran back to the village, screaming for help with all of her breath.

A deep groan and a heavy sigh as he stood there and stared at the dark waves crashing on the shore. His voice was calm as he scolded himself for letting chaos happen again. "Jonathon, will you never learn? Never confess your love for a tomato." Hearing the screaming continue and then the march of the villagers as they took to torches and chanting. "I believe a nap might be in order. But first, supper."

...............

1837, Nebraska Territory

The old barn door swung open with a forceful gust of wind rattling the broken down planks of wood. Dark clouds swarmed the sky and turned the once bright and sunny day into a dark and windy evening. An unlatched door swung helplessly in the wind, opening and slamming shut without care until it was stopped in mid swing by a boy of twelve and his older brother. "Push, Daniel!" Frank, a ginger-haired lanky youth of seventeen called to him over the roaring of the wind.

"I _AM_ PUSHING!" Daniel yelled to the boy beside him. 

The two pushed and shoved and managed to finally close the door and swing the plank lock into place before being blown back as the rotted beam they used for a latch had crumbled away under the stress of the storm. Both doors flew open as if letting out a terrible force trapped inside. Thunder crashed over head only seconds before lightning lit up the sky with a spider web of display for several seconds then vanished to renew its charge before lighting up the sky once more in a new pattern.

Whinnying and frantic stomping came from inside the barn. The two plow horses voiced their concerns of the storm outside and the large shadow inside. Tucked away into two clean stalls Eder and Nelle butted the doors and snorted as loud as they could to frighten away the dark figure that crept closer to them. Eder, the male and his mate, Nelle were two rich brown horses with long black manes and silky tails to match. Freshly shod and brushed that morning, Eder spotted the movement across from him and raised up, onto his hind legs and let out a terror-filled scream as the movement ceased and the shadow ducked into a pile of straw, in the far corner next to the stall, as the doors swung open and both boys hurried inside.

Each boy pulling hard on a heavy door and bringing them together before Frank slid a more sturdy plank into place, latching them both inside with the horses. Hearts pounding and limbs exhausted from the fierce fight, Frank and Daniel sat down to rest, leaning against the doors. "Mind the lantern, Daniel. I'll quiet the horses." Frank panted but stood and felt his way forward to calm first Nelle, the closest to the doors and then Eder. "Something's got 'em spooked."

"Yeah, the storm." Daniel spoke up as he found a match and lit the lantern, replacing it on the nail stuck into the supporting beam.

Frank shook his head. "Not talking about that. I can't get him away from the side of the stall." His head turned to find his brother walking up beside him and rubbing Nelle's flank. "Something over there, I reckon." He pointed a long bony finger in the direction of the mound of straw as Eder nodded and whinnied. Frank grabbed the nearest pitchfork and stabbed the long, needle tines into the pile. Several more stabs before the fork was pulled from his hands and tossed behind him with tremendous force that left he and his brother frozen in fear.

The mound of straw parted and revealed a tall, lanky figure dressed in rags, standing before them. His eyes dark and red. A menacing smile formed, revealing long white teeth that dripped with the blood of a freshly killed field cat named Chester. His long pink tongue darted out and rubbed along the bottom of his top front teeth. "Juicy, handsome morsels have we?"

"Daniel, run!" Frank shoved his brother in front of him as they both ran as fast as they could back to the door, skidding to a halt as the monster now blocked their path. Pulling the younger brother behind him and trembling as he growled back at the eerily bone-white man dressed in eighty year old clothes, Frank swallowed and stared down his attacker. "You ain't takin' my brother, beast!" Frantically looking around for the nearest sharp object, he snatched up the closest object.

Dropping his ferocity and raising a sarcastic eyebrow, the figure spoke in a crackled voice. "You intend to brush me to death?" Long blond hair now matted and dirty with thin twigs of straw poking from it. Thin lips curved into a smile that spread into laughter as the eldest boy stood before him, dumbfounded. Quieting his laughter as he stared calmly at the two boys, he eyed the taller of the two. "Don't be daft, dear boy. I have no intention of harming you or your frail brother. Tell me, prey, what year is it?"

The puzzled boys looked to one another before Daniel spoke up. "Eighteen thirty-seven."

"Eighty years?" Turning and moving from the door, he now paid little mind to the boy who pointed the brush handle at him. Taking several steps to the left he sat down on the small wooden stool, in the corner as thunder boomed from outside. "Tell me, do ships still port for passage to England?"

Frank looked at Daniel with wide eyes and then back to the figure as he shook his head, lowering the brush. "No. Is... Is that where yer from?"

"Onccccce." The word hissed out as he stared at the straw-covered floor.

Daniel peered around his brother's coveralls and stepped closer but stopped as Frank grabbed his arm. "I'm Daniel. This is my brother, Frank." He swallowed as dark eyes met with his. "What's your name? Do you.... have a name?" Short blond hair looked mussed from his mother cutting their hair by herself.

Standing and bowing to both boys stiffly, he stood straight and introduced himself. "Jonathon."

Daniel laughed at the introduction. "You sure talk funny." 

"I suppose. I come from a small city, in England. Londinium was the name." Jonathon's face drained of expression. "A very long time ago. Now, if you please...? Which of you is first?" A hungry look and his smile replaced, he licked his lips and rubbed his hands together, eyeing both boys.

Frank's grip on his brother's arm tightened and he yanked the smaller boy behind him. "What do you mean?"

Jonathon's smile took on a sinister form as he answered in a low hiss. "I am hungry, child." He took a step towards them only to have them back up with each advance. "Do share. Between the rats and the mangy feline, you both seem like juicy tomatoes." Sniffing the air in short swift intakes, he eyed Daniel as the colour drained from the boy's face.

Daniel's face twisted into fright as he was pulled backward. "But you said you wasn't gonna hurt us!"

Soft laughter panted out as Jonathon's smile widened to reveal the sharp white teeth. "Never trust a vampire when he is hungry, dear boy. Although, I did mean what I said. I will not harm you, only take a sip. For now." Placing a hand on his stomach, he licked his lips. "Please, I am so hungry."

Frank yelled and jabbed the brush handle in Jonathon's direction, catching no rise from the man. "Ain't no such thing as vampires! Yer outta yer head!" He snarled and hid his trembles. "Nay! You ain't gettin' my brother, beast!" Frank wrenched Daniel's arm hard, forcing the younger boy behind him but keeping him close. His grip did little to lighten after hearing the pained cry Daniel let out. He scowled at the man and took short glances around to look for anything sharp and more deadly.

Jonathon laughed. "I had brothers once. Beautiful," in a blink he was next to them, "soft, ginger hair. My sister had long, silken brown curls that bounced in the sun light." Running the bony fingers of his right hand through the short curls of Frank's hair but stopped when Frank yanked his head away. For a moment, he had lost himself in the feel of the softness, his eyes far away, seeing his younger brothers. A heavy sigh as they backed away from him. "My dear children, you have nowhere to go. The storm is outside and I.... am inside."

Stumbling from being shoved backward and stopping when his back slammed against the support beam, Daniel looked up and wrenched his arm free of his brother's grasp, reaching up to grab the lantern from the nail. "You come closer an' I'll burn you up!" He held the lantern up for the monster to see and threatened to throw it at him.

Jonathon let his body language drop to neutral while his expression became a bored yet half amused look. The tip of his tongue rubbed against the front of his left incisor, his gaze still trained on Daniel. "If you wish but it will only serve to anger me more. It will be very bad for you." 

"We could scream." Daniel held the lantern between he and Jonathon as if reminding the vampire of the looming threat of fire.

A brow arched. "Screaming in the middle of a thunderstorm, oh how exciting." Thunder that had raged on outside and was forgotten for most of their plight inside was now reminding them of its fury. The lightning lit up the sky and forced its way in through the cracks of the barn doors before another rumble of thunder drowned out all possible sounds. Jonathon's excitement soared with each bellow of the storm. 

Frank grabbed his brother and shoved him to the side, screaming for them to run. Grabbing the lantern from Daniel and tossing it behind them, he heard Jonathon emit a loud and terror-filled scream as the lantern smashed on the hay-strewn ground and sent flames racing towards him. His hopes were dashed as the next bolt of lightning lit up the barn as the bolt had struck the far corner, just past the horse stalls. Sliding to a halt as he reached the back doors and turning to find to the two horses screaming and bucking, Frank was torn on what to do. Fire erupted from both ends of the barn and trapped them all inside. 

Daniel ran over to unlock Eder's stall door but found the latch stuck and himself distracted by the fire that moved ever closer, to the right of him. "Frank! Help me!"

"Never mind them! Come on, Daniel!" Frank no sooner said it only to find Jonathon panting in anger and crouched next to Nelle's stall, staring at Daniel. "Stay away, Beast! Daniel!" He took two long-legged steps forward and blinked and found both stalls open and Daniel under Jonathon's right arm. "NO!" Mere seconds counted by, forcing him to close his eyes at the sight of his brother in the enemy's arms. When next he opened them, they were both outside and the horses bridled, reined and tied to the far post of the corral. Frank's head swiveled this way and that, searching for the monster that had saved them and then vanished. He almost gave up when the slam of the storm cellar door caught his attention. "Daniel! Are you safe?"

Daniel stood not five feet from his older brother and looked just as shocked to be outside and unharmed as Frank had. "Yes."

 

Continued.


	3. Chapter 3

1844

"King's bishop to Queen's knight three." Jonathon paced the width of his room, hands behind his back and watching the young man that sat on the steps; a table between them with a chess game set up. "That is the rook, Daniel. The bishop is next to the King." His stomach lurched in hunger of the tasty morsel that sat on the sun-drenched stairs and stared at the board with carved wooden pieces he moved around the board. Out of the four games they've played, Jonathon had won three. The fourth had yet to be determined as it was still ongoing. Half-lidded eyes looked up from the board to stare at the throbbing in Daniel's neck. He cursed the damned daylight the teen sat in. The sound of subtle thrumming in his ears pulled at him to inch closer to the youth. 

After moving Jonathon's piece to its appointed spot and concentrating on his own move, Daniel hadn't noticed the closeness of the vampire. "Hey Jon what's--?" He sat back and made eye contact with Jonathon, in which he quickly averted before finishing his question. He heard Jonathon's footsteps move to the back of the room and sit down on a hay bale they had given him. He and his brother went to various lengths to ensure that their mother and father didn't know about their strange new border. Both boys went so far as to dig another storm cellar on the opposite side of the house. "What's the role of the King, again?" Cautiously, he swallowed and kept watch on the darkened shadow at the back of the room. Daniel grew up in the years that followed the initial meeting in the barn and grew to enjoy the vampire's company. 

Jonathon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he stepped forward and, using the same hand, pointed to each piece and named then before stating their roles. "The King's role is to rule and make everyone else's life miserable." For a brief few minutes, he seemed far away and stared at the small carving on the board. After sitting there a moment, he stood and returned to his pacing back and forth.

Daniel's mouth twisted in confusion. "Huh?"

"Nevermind." Jonathon turned away. "Make your move, Daniel."

Daniel stared at the pieces on the board and touched several pieces before deciding on a forgotten pawn in front of his King and moved it one space forward. The King, he had kept in its square and waited to use it as the rest of his pieces were already in play and scattered throughout the board or became prisoners of Jonathon's side. Feeling confident of his move, he released the pawn and sat back with a smirk.

Jonathon stopped in his pacing and turned to look at the youth. "Check."

Daniel dropped his head and examined the white pieces on the board. "What? How?"

"My Queen to the left side of the board. Your rook cannot save you due to the pawn in front of it. Then, there is my knight but one move away from capturing the King. Another move is my Bishop to the right, also in line to capture the King. Once your King is in check, you may only move that piece out of check." Jonathon placed his hands behind his back and waited patiently for Daniel to correct his piece. He watched as Daniel replaced his pawn in front of the King and then moved the pawn between Jonathon's Queen and Daniel's rook. "Very good."

"How old are you, Jon?" Daniel looked up after moving his pawn and again caught the eye of the vampire.

"I don't remember." 

Daniel's puzzlement expanded. "Well, do you have a birthday?"

Jonathon tapped a finger to his chin. "Not recently." He tried to remember the exact date he was born but nothing came to mind. His father had once given him a carving of a horse, which he then gave to his sister, Gwen. 

"How much is recently?"

Jonathon sighed again and dropped his hands to his sides. "About three hundred to four hundred years." Minimising his boredom and paying close attention to his right shirt sleeve, he brushed and picked lint off of spots that had started to fray. He stared at his sleeve, making sure he found no lingering trace of lint before turning to do the same to the left sleeve while wiping his feet on either pantleg.

Daniel stared at Jonathon's facial features, guesstimating how old the man was by how old he looked. "Are you older than Frank? I mean, when you become a vampire."

"No."

Daniel shrugged. "Are you younger than me? I'll be nineteen next week."

"Hm?" Jonathon looked up from his activity when he heard the number. "No. I was already nineteen when I became what I am. In fact, I suppose I was almost twenty. So, congratulations for eluding my grasp for another marvelous year, Daniel." His words were flat to emphasize his growing boredom with the topic. "Why this sudden query over my age? Having a bonding moment, are we?" Sarcasm now dripped from his tone like water rolling off a melting ice cube.

Daniel stood up and moved the crate that the chess board sat on, out of the way. "Close yer eyes!" A smile crept to his lips as he straightened and looked over at Jonathon, who stood in the middle of the room. "Come on. I've got something for ya. Please!"

Face losing all expression and containing his intrigue, Jonathon blinked and crossed his arms. "If it means you'll go away, why not?" Taking a breath and letting it out before closing his eyes, he listened to Daniel's movements as the youth turned and ran back up the stairs only to return a short while later and stop on the top step. A rhythmic clatter bounded down the stairs and squealed loudly as it hit the floor and gave him the notion to open his eyes to see what had come into the room. His eyes found the small, pink object that pranced and sniffed and snorted its way around the room. Jonathon was somewhat startled and leapt back to stand ontop of the hay bale, letting out a loud scream of exasperation.

"What'd ya do that for? Ya scared her!" Daniel hurried down the stairs and stopped on the last step, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. 

Hissing at the runt pig that snorted as it made its way around the hay bale, Jonathon straightened from his bent stance and dropped his arms to his sides as they were raised in front of him with his finger like claws. "What is that thing?" Jonathon's eyes never moved from the animal as he moved his feet away with each pink nose that lifted above the bale. 

Daniel smiled. "It's a birthday present and you scared her."

"Dear me. I am terribly sorry I gave this pudgy pink snorter a complex." Feigning sympathy and placing a hand to his chest, Jonathon eyed the pig as it walked in a small circle in front of him. "What am I to do with it?" his breath became heavy as the pig neared him again and raised its snout to sniff at him before snorting a distaste and wandering away. 

Daniel bent down and called the pig to him, picking her up and holding her in his arms. "Well, I thought... I thought you could use a friend." 

Jonathon smirked. "Oh. Oh, yes. She will be a delicious... friend..." he choked as he caught Daniel's eye and smiled politely, almost sarcastically. Stepping down and moving slowly closer to the young man, he dared not reach out to touch the pig as she stared at him and squealed with sudden unease. Lowering his gaze from Daniel, he stared at her. "Apologies. I shall name it..." he licked his lips, "dessert." The smile grew on his thin lips. He was hungry and hadn't realised how close he was standing to Daniel until the youth spoke again.

"That ain't no name!" Daniel scowled and then stepped back as he met eyes with Jonathon, at close distance. He stepped back, onto the stair and then up one more, stopping as he felt the sunlight on his back.

Out of habit and hunger, Jonathon licked his lips and anticipated the meal in his empty mouth. "Once again, I apologise for giving it a complex. It is entirely rude to play with one's meal. Present company not withstanding, of course." A thought came to his mind. "Fine then. You pick the name." A far off voice caught his ears before Daniel's. "Your mother beckons you. Go to her." He eyed the pig again and then glanced at the top of the stairs. 

Shrugging and making his way slowly up the stairs before turning back to find Jonathon once again staring with uncertainty at the pig that investigated his home, Daniel somehow managed the courage to warn the vampire not to kill the little pig. "She'd better be alive when I get back or I might just forget to feed ya, tomorrow."

Lifting a thin brown eyebrow and sighing, Jonathon smacked his lips and spoke calmly. "That is a terrible threat, Daniel. You do understand it is only the daylight that keeps me here. Don't you? Or, shall I explain again what I am? Starving a vampire takes a very long time." His eyes raised to the open door once again and waved the boy away. "Your mother beckons still. Go." He watched as the doors closed behind the ginger-haired boy, hearing the wooden plank slide into place before the footsteps retreated. Another deep sigh as he stared at the thick wood door that kept him contained and found himself reliving his own youth; remembering his walks in the sun and hearing his own mother call to him from the small kitchen of his father's home.

The pig snorted as it sniffed and roamed into the far right corner, where Jonathon had set up a small cot of discarded wood and straw. Daniel had given him a blanket, although thin, he had done his best to mend it before turning it and a pillow over to the vampire. The pig had found a way up onto the low cot and circled a spot before settling down to rest.

"There was a time when I struck fear into all creatures. Now, it seems I am the one in fear." Looking over at the small pink shape that stared back, Jonathon edged his way closer. "What to call you...? I suppose Salted Pork is out of the question." He stopped only steps away from the cot as the pig raised its head. "It appears I've lost another bed to a woman. Although, we might reach an arrangement." Easing himself forward and fighting his hunger urges, Jonathon sat down on the side of the bed and held his breath as the piglet moved and came to rest on his lap. "I suppose you and I might be well together, hm? Gwen?" He smiled and looked down at the pig on his lap, thinking about his long lost sister and family and how he missed them, dearly.

~~~~~~

1942

Laughter erupted from the young woman as she sat on the steps. "Oh, Jon. You are a wonderful story teller!" Patricia Fitzgerald was a beautiful young woman of twenty-four with lips as red as the rose and hair as red as the sunkissed strawberry. An infatuation had blossomed in her early years and grew as she got older. "Do tell another, please!" A yellow dress with white daisies perfectly draped over her knees with white gloves that fit her hands just so. It seemed that the more time she spent with him, the less she felt like a homely, knobby-kneed tomboy and more like a beautiful young woman that captivated the room with her simple smile. It took years for her speech to perfect itself, with Jonathon's help. She was eternally grateful her stammering and sounding of a full mouth of spit had cleared up but it had taken much too long for her to master the art of saying her esses.

Jonathon smiled and blushed, sitting himself down on the floor, at the foot of the stairs. He looked away at her compliment and drew his right leg up while the left lay outstretched parallel to the stair, next to him. "I'm certain you must have a gent awaiting your arrival." His head turned back to admire her smile, the way the evening sun had glowed, fading rays catching her back and creating an aura as her tan skin glowed.

Patricia blushed and cupped her reddened cheek with a white gloved hand. "Stop. You know there is no one awaiting me."

"No? Why not? You are a beautiful young woman. Any chap would be a prince to escort you 'round." He loved her smile and the way she blushed at his compliments. "You cannot hide from your fears, down here. The world will pass you by." For a long while, he had noticed something off about her casual smile and the way she would walk, letting her hand touch the wall, every few steps. Jonathon took a long inhale and enjoyed her sweet perfume of lilacs. They sat within a foot of each other but his danger hadn't alarmed her in the slightest. In fact, she was enticed by it.

Patricia shook her head. "I will not live long enough to find the love I want."

Jonathon's brow furrowed. "You are young. Plenty of men out there. Do not wait, Patty. One day, you will wake and it will be gone." 

"Jon, young men nowadays don't want a gimper around." Patricia shrugged. Growing up, she was a thin girl with long, stringy hair and clumsy arms and legs. An accident into the icy pond had claimed her health and ability to walk without a limp though she had managed to pretend that it would fade but hadn't yet. Her dreams of a dancer were crushed at an early age, until she discovered her father's secret and introduced herself to the mysterious man in the storm cellar, Patricia resolved herself to stay in her room, upstairs and lose her bonds in books. The stories of long ago with knights and princesses and evil queens enchanted the wide-eyed girl and Jonathon was all too happy to oblige her.

His attention caught on her words and he looked up to try and understand what she had meant by "gimper." The word was strange to him and the meaning seemed even moreso. "I see nothing wrong with the lovely young thing before me. In fact, you would remind me of my sister." The corner of his mouth curved upward as he saw her thin lips smile. "Shall I prove what I say is true?" Standing up and making his way over to the end of the dresser, where a turntable and a single record of Brahms sat at the ready, Jonathon switched it on and placed the needle at a slower tune before making his way back to the stairs and reaching for her hand. "Might I have this dance?"

Breath catching as she took his hand and stood, hobbling down the stairs and turning to stand correctly for a nice slow dance. Patricia placed her left hand on his right shoulder as his left hand held her right. She felt him place his right hand on her left hip as they started to sway to the soothing beat. "You dance divinely, sir."

Jonathon smiled. A long time had passed since he was able to dance with someone, other than a pig. "Yes, well... the pig taught me quite a lot before the end." He froze as she placed her head on his shoulder. The temptation was overwhelming but he did his best to shake it off and keep dancing. 

"There is no place I would rather be than right here, with you." Patricia whispered, head turned away and eyes closed. She knew he was a vampire but hadn't grasped the concept of the word, nor had realized how much danger she was in. Needless to say, she hadn't cared in the slightest. She was dancing with the man that made her feel alive and beautiful. "Jon, if I ask you something, would you say 'yes'? No matter what the question was?" Lifting her head, turning and opening her eyes to look at his wide-eyed expression, she bit her lip. "I want to be like you. Please."

Jonathon pulled away and moved to sit down on the side of the bed, shaking his head as he sat there. "You don't understand what it means to be what I am. Your first thought- nay, your only thought- is to drink, not wine, not water but blood. Human blood. You do not feel love or lust as a human does. You only want the blood that circulates inside them. That is not a way of life, Patricia. You would be stuck down here, with me. A permanent threat to anyone and everyone that opens that door and graces my steps."

Her hands fidgeted as she turned to look over at the empty and cold stairs that were now dark from the set sun. The stars had begun to shine and the moon was rising on the other side of the vast field. "All of your stories and past lives, they are funny and terribly sad. Jon, please. Do me this simple favour. It is all I ask. You make me feel as no other has." She looked back to him and pleaded with him as she hobbled closer and sat beside him on the bed. Sweeping her hair over one shoulder, she offered him her bare neck. "Take me."

His breath caught in his throat. Only once before had someone offered as much as then pulled away at the last moment before he had the chance to sink his teeth in. "You do not understand."

"I understand perfectly. You are alone here. You talk of that pig that kept you company for years and how much you loved her. That is genuine love, Jon. We can be good together. You are so lonely here, just as I am so lonely up in my own room. I beg you. I curse this damned limp and unpretty face and hair. Please! It's all I ask." She pleaded with him, staring into his eyes and searching for some sign of weakness to exploit. "Once I am like you, we could go anywhere, do anything, together."

Jonathon stared at the large rug on the floor, in front of him. He wanted so much to get out of his prison and explore the new world. Since the Fitzgeralds had used their small farmhouse as a base for the rumrunners of the twenties, they had cornered a market and made themselves rich, using Jonathon as a way of keeping the police at bay and those unlucky few quiet. He took a deep breath and then turned back to her. "Lie back." Guiding her to lay crossways on the bed, he leaned over her and bared his fangs. "Are you certain this is what you want? I will not stop."

Swallowing and nodding, Patricia closed her eyes and turned her head to once again bare the slendre and pale skin of her neck. "Please." Her breath caught and she winced in pain as she felt the tiniest pricks from his sharp teeth sink slowly into her neck. She could feel him drink from her and gasped and moaned in pain as the blood was gently pulled from her body. At long last, she fell limp and still under him. 

With his teeth removed from her neck, he checked her for the faint pulsing in her wrist and then tore a thin cut in his own neck, holding her up to drink from him. A groan as she slowly came to and started to lap at the offered blood. Jonathon felt himself become dizzy and weak as the more she drank, the more thirsty she became. "Enough." Pulling away and clamping a hand on his own wound, he staggered away from the bed and fell against the far corner. Though his age greatly outweighed hers, he had been deprived of his own sustenance and felt weakened by giving her what he had maintained for his own survival. He slept. He awoke some time later to a loud racket of pleading and screaming before the sound of hammering. "NO! She's mine!" Drunkenly, he hissed and struggled to get to his feet.

"You dare sully my daughter, you beast!" Dawson Fitzgerald scowled and held out a large wooden cross with a small gold figure of Christ placed against it. He stood between Jonathon, who hissed and cringed away from the cross, and his two sons, Roland and Brian as one held the light while the other hammered a sharpened stake into their sister's heart. A hard man but a man torn between being a good Christian and running his illegal businesses.

Jonathon held up a hand and flinched away from the cross as he eyed the now lifeless body of his dear friend, Patricia. "You have no honour or righteousness to press such a figure unto me, Dawson. She came to me. She pleaded with me to be my companion. You are the one who has shunned her; your own daughter. You cast me away with no guilt but your conscience will not let you rest for destroying your own child." Again Jonathon hissed loudly as the cross was shoved at him as the two boys carried their dead sister up the stairs, with Dawson backing up and following behind them. When the door closed, Jonathon slouched back into the corner he awoke in and buried his head in his hands. 

By the next nightfall, he awoke to find himself chained to the wall and a thick, heavy ring about his neck. Years would pass before he would have the pleasure of one's company to talk to.

 

Finished.


End file.
